


northern lights

by AtergIo



Series: hypothermic hearts [1]
Category: Vinland Saga (Anime), Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: I ship Thorfinn with happiness, M/M, Thorfinn was an emotionally repressed 16 yo, bittersweet first loves, overcoming one's past, reflections, so I support all ships lol, the Einar/Thorfinn is mostly implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26001313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtergIo/pseuds/AtergIo
Summary: “I loved him. Or perhaps, I could have loved him. It’s hard to say.” Their last night on Ketil's Farm, Thorfinn and Einar discuss the past.
Relationships: Canute/Thorfinn (Vinland Saga), Einar/Thorfinn (Vinland Saga)
Series: hypothermic hearts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887238
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	northern lights

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of Feelings and I enjoy reflective pieces so I made this indulgent fic. I just want Thorfinn to be loved and cherished ;-; I'm thinking of writing companion piece(s), from Canute's perspective and/or as Einar realizes his feelings!

Thorfinn was looking in the direction where they had last seen Canute before setting sail. He looked beautiful in that wistful way he often had, despite the incredible bruises and redness of his face; long gone were the flat, dull eyes that used to at first puzzle Einar, then worry him. Now Thorfinn’s eyes were clear, if a bit troubled, if a bit hesitant. Still, they signaled to Einar that a great shift had occurred in his friend, an awakening of sorts as he found welcome direction to his- their- lives, and one that honored his mysterious father, his roots.

“What are you thinking about?” Einar grunted, completing his final check on the ship’s sails before they slept. The moon was like the sickle they had used to harvest wheat, shining alongside the stars and illuminating the ocean. Tomorrow they were leaving Ketil’s farm, source of misery and joy both. “Canute?”

“Yes,” Thorfinn replied simply, and Einar waited, hoping he would continue talking. Silence. Not the kind of silence that was hostile to questioning, a simple silence. Einar knew Thorfinn still had trouble understanding that others were genuinely interested in him and his thoughts, and he was used to filling such silences, with his own ramblings or questions.

“I’m still surprised that you knew  _ the _ King Canute. And the way you talked to him! You never fail to surprise me. Did you know him well?”

“Yes.” Again, a single word. Einar opened his mouth and- “I loved him. Or perhaps, I could have loved him. It’s hard to say.” Einar choked. Thorfinn had elaborated- progress, Einar thought to himself dumbly- but that was definitely not what he would’ve expected to come next.

Einar took a moment to recollect himself, examining his friend’s face. Still wistful, calm, maybe even… could that be called a smile?  _ Love _ , Einar mused. In what sense of the word? Friendship? Brotherhood? Romance? Einar of course knew of men and women who had no interest in each other, hell, he had had some thoughts that made him question if he might not like men as well as women in that way, but he had never heard someone profess such feelings so straightforwardly. Christian or not, such desires were privately held, for better or for worse. And more than that, why such an ambiguous phrasing? Einar was left wondering once more the kind of life Thorfinn had lived before he had met him. Something about Thorfinn unleashed a curiosity fiercer than any he’d ever known.

“Could you explain?”

Thorfinn turned to him, looking surprised and then pensive. “Hmm… it might become a lengthy explanation, and I’m not sure it’ll be very coherent, given I’m bad with words… is that okay?” Einar nodded, privately questioning if Thorfinn were truly bad at words or just unused to articulating them, and Thorfinn hummed. 

“I met him when my life was still dedicated to challenging and killing the man who killed my father. Back then… I was incredibly single minded and Askeladd knew that. So he promised me a duel in exchange for protecting the then-prince Canute. He was different then- I was different then. He lacked self confidence and I lacked self. He hadn’t seen the world and clung to his retainer like a spoiled child, whereas I had seen too much and thought myself grown up. We started off on the wrong foot, I’ll put it that way. Didn’t help that I called him princess.”

Einar nodded, trying to imagine this. King Canute, who seemed a very cunning and self-assured man. Who wore the crown of Denmark and England so naturally upon his head. Whose scarred face spoke to hard decisions and infrequent laughter. And who, before Thorfinn’s deft words, had seemed ready to kill them where they stood with no mercy.

“What changed? Since...” Einar struggled to find the words.

“I foraged and caught my own food, from early on; it was that or starve with only the scraps the band left. One evening I smelled something good from his tent, and he all but shoved me in when he saw the rabbit I had caught. He and Ragnar cooked it into their stew and shared it with me. It was the best thing I had had since my mother’s cooking, when I was a child.”

“Best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?” Einar mused aloud, stroking his chin. Thorfinn looked shocked and couldn’t help but laugh. Einar grinned; it was always a treat to hear Thorfinn laugh.

“I’ve never heard that saying before… but it seems rather accurate. After that it seemed to hit us both that we were the only not-quite-men in the camp and despite our differences we did our best to get along. I would have never admitted it but I had been lonely, lonely without realizing it. He was too. Especially… his retainer was more of a father figure to him than King Sweyn, so after his death, he was bolder but also lonelier than ever.”

“As we gained Thorkell’s allegiance and challenged Sweyn…” Thorfinn stopped abruptly with a frown. “As we gained Thorkell’s allegiance and challenged Sweyn, we trained a lot together. He had not been trained with the sword yet and despite my taunting manner and harsh expectations, he was a quick student. He grew stronger and somewhere, in the deepest part of myself that had been trampled on, first by the Viking life and then by myself, I marveled at him. At being part of someone’s life. I could not understand myself or what I was feeling, having seen so little of human kindness or affection, certainly never giving it. What little I did understand I refused to acknowledge, acting colder to shield myself. Like when he tied up his hair, when he laughed, or when he insinuated we were close, I turned away, I cursed at him. Because being open was being weak, and weak was what I could not afford to be. Anything that distracted me from my objective would only hinder me. Or destroy me and my fragile existence that sought only vengeance.”

Einar shifted uncomfortably. He desperately wanted to give Thorfinn a hug, but he wasn’t sure it was an appropriate time. To Einar, who had grown up in an affectionate family, touch was natural; Thorfinn was obviously much changed since his youth but still exuded a strangeness with touch. Like every touch could be to wound, or to leave forever; Einar often caught him staring at his hands as though they were magic, capable of disrupting nightmares and growing plants as tall as himself, only good things. His own were scarred from years of handling something he would guess was just barely longer than a knife, with new ones from clearing trees despite all the times Einar had cajoled him to wrap them with bandages. That was in those early days where he refused to treat himself with anything beyond the most basic of care. Einar settled for putting a hand on Thorfinn’s shoulder, who glanced up at him. Sometimes it was hard to believe the feats this small body had accomplished, the brutality and the cruelty it had doled out and now bore silently, uncomplainingly, until night fell. Thorfinn’s faint smile was grateful before it vanished like clouds in the summer sky.

“Before long, Askeladd gave his life to Canute’s mission. It honestly broke me. Here was the man who I had unknowingly made the center of my life, the central feeling of my existence, dead by the hands of the boy who threatened to unravel me. And he asked me what I would do now, to which I had no answer. If I had not in a moment of madness cut Canute’s cheek, perhaps Canute himself would have tried to give me a new life’s purpose; there were few people he could genuinely trust, and I was used to constant danger. I was there for three months before I was sold. When he visited I pretended to be asleep or stayed silent, afraid to face him and confront the future without someone familiar, without him. Despite what I had thought, I had never truly been alone up until that point.”

Einar sucked in a breath. That was quite a heavy first love to have had, certainly more challenging and complicated than the easy feelings he had had for a neighbor’s daughter; that had been a foolish trifle, lasting a few short months, but joyful and sincere.  _ Hm? Wait... _

“Do you…” Einar’s question got stuck in his throat when he saw the bittersweet nostalgia upon Thorfinn’s face.

“Hm?”

Einar swallowed and kept going. “Do you think he… felt the same way? Well, not the same, since obviously you two had very different circumstances and upbringings and everyone approaches sentiments differently and- What I mean is, do you think he loved you too? Or loved you in his own way, like the you who tangled and pushed down your feelings?”

Thorfinn blinked up at him with owl eyes, a slow blush forming on his cheeks, which was almost comically framing his still red nose. Clearly he had never thought about it, perhaps because he never believed anyone could have such feelings for him. That made Einar’s heart twinge, and he wasn’t quite sure why.

“I… I do not think so?” With the questioning lilt at the end of his sentence Thorfinn’s face grew downright silly with concentration, as if he was combing his memory like he combed his hair, untangling each strand to assemble a proper ponytail. 

Einar decided he should continue to lighten the mood and shouted at the sea: “Oiiiii! King Canute! If you liked Thorfinn back, sail back and tell him, ya big coward!”  
“Einar!” Thorfinn hid a smile behind his hand, “Not only can he not hear you, slandering a king is a criminal offense. I know I told him we would flee from him but we don’t need him actively pursuing us.”  
“From what you’ve said, you were cursing him out on the regular, so I’m pretty sure it’s too late now.”

“You might be right.” Thorfinn sighed, but not in an upset way. His face was still pensive, considering. 

“Sometimes I still wonder about what would have happened if things had gone differently. Would I still have found the path to nonviolence? Or would I have remained in its clutches, never realizing my sins…?” He glanced at Einar, troubled. “I also never would have met you. Or the Old Man. Or Snake.”

Now Einar was the one who was blushing. Einar grunted, looking at his feet.

“He looked well though. I was worried, of course… the life of a king is challenging, and bloody, and lonely… when we first saw him I thought I saw a malevolent power circling in his eyes. But we are united in our goal, which seemed to ease his heart, and I saw him laugh once more… He must have found it ironic, now it is he that has short hair and I long. He’s gotten taller too.”

“Handsome.” Einar suggested, and Thorfinn’s eyes narrowed slightly. Einar grinned, happy to take advantage of Thorfinn’s pacifist nature. He grew serious and said, “Though of course I wish your life had been simpler, that you had not suffered so much to be here right now, know that I am glad to be by your side this night. That I see what you are doing, for me, for you, for all the outcasts of this cruel world and I feel the depth of the love you feel for all peoples. You have already made your father proud.”

Thorfinn’s face scrunched up, as if he wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry. “Thank you, Einar. Your words mean much.”

“You’re welcome.” Einar ruffled Thorfinn’s hair, chuckling when Thorfinn made a noise of complaint, and added, “And now we should get to bed! We have a big day tomorrow, and you especially need to recover from the beating you took today.”  
“Yes, yes,” mumbled Thorfinn. “If I’m a big baby, you’re a mother hen.”

Einar just waved a hand and left him to rinse his face. Walking to the barn they had slept in for years, side by side, Einar was struck once more by the fact that they were leaving, likely never to return. His first feeling was to say good riddance, to the site of such tragedy, but he also felt an odd nostalgia; the place he had gotten to know Thorfinn, the place he had seen Thorfinn change and grow so dramatically. He was a completely different person than he was when they first met, and obviously very different from who he had been as a child and a teen. Einar was almost envious that Canute had seen that version of Thorfinn. He would never tell Thorfinn but he had the suspicion that despite his harsh nature and ferocity, the secret feelings in Thorfinn’s hypothermic heart had been reciprocated. If nothing else, the challenging yet approving look in Canute’s eyes today regarding Thorfinn as something  _ special _ , and the way he had laughed so joyously, had suggested something akin to a love like the northern lights Thorfinn had once described to him. Too far to reach, tragically short and fleeting, yet vibrant and flexible and returning. Einar bit his lip.  _ Why am I feeling frustrated _ … _?  _ He shrugged, deciding to ponder over this during the course of the long boat ride to Thorfinn’s home. 

Settling into the straw bed, Einar said a final good night to Thorfinn who sleepily replied. Crossing his arms and placing his hands beneath his neck, Einar thought to himself,  _ I’ll be the one to see who he becomes from here on... I’ll make sure he’s never alone again. _ And with that, Einar fell asleep, dreams of waves and a small boy with stubbornly hopeful eyes awaiting him.


End file.
